


Salvation

by LSquared80



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: After the battle, F/M, First Time, Hopefully not the only happily ever after they get, Proposal of sorts, first I love yous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 17:16:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18721474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LSquared80/pseuds/LSquared80
Summary: Following "The Long Night," Jaime and Brienne find themselves alone - finally. Survival inspires confessions, and later, Brienne saves Jaime yet again.





	Salvation

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into writing Jaime/Brienne, or any Game of Thrones, so hopefully my dialogue and characterization are close enough as to not be distracting.
> 
> I know everyone is writing post-episode 3 stories, but I had to get my own out before episode 4 airs.

The sounds of celebration poured out from inside what remained of Winterfell. The battlefield had been swept clean of bodies and debris. Brienne, however, could still see the ashes dancing in the smoke. Could still hear the hiss of dying embers. Still felt soot caking her skin. She couldn’t bring herself to join in the singing and dancing and drinking. 

 

“You’re going the wrong way.” 

 

Brienne turned sharply at the sound of Tyrion’s voice. She greeted him with a courtly nod. 

 

“The party is that way,” he told her, gesturing over his shoulder. 

 

“Yes,” Brienne agreed, standing still with hands clasped behind her back. 

 

Tyrion let out a quick bark of laughter, shaking his head. He walked closer and she could see he’d carried a chalice of mead with him, the liquid nearly spilling over the sides as he walked. 

 

“Ser Brienne,” he said, “we won. You are alive. Allow yourself to luxuriate in that. Everyone is looking for you.” 

 

She scoffed at that. 

 

He amended his statement. “My brother is looking for you.” 

 

Brienne’s eyes briefly darted toward the doorway he’d emerged from. “I suppose I should check on Podrick.” 

 

Tyrion winked and lifted the chalice. “Don’t go in empty-handed,” he advised. 

 

She took it from him, taking a demure sip and then a long gulp before making her way to the scene of the celebration. 

 

x 

 

Jaime knew the moment Brienne entered the room; the atmosphere changed and his chest tightened. He had been trying to find her, feeling unmoored without her. When Tyrion had called him out, remarking that the golden lion was in love with the Maid of Tarth, Jaime’s initial response was to refute the accusation. Instead, he found himself quietly agreeing with his brother. 

 

He resumed his search and found a shock of blonde hair bobbing in the crowd. He abandoned his conversation and pushed through the bodies crowding the hall. 

 

He lost sight of her until suddenly she was mere inches away, her back to him. Before Jaime could call out for her, Brienne backed up and turned around, colliding with him. He grasped her hips. The mead in her glass splashed equal amounts on her chest and his. 

 

She sputtered an apology. She blushed, feeling the warmth stain her cheeks – more so from the location of Jaime’s hand than her spill. 

 

“It’s quite alright,” he shouted above the revelry. It’s better than the blood that spilled on us last night, he thought, consciously keeping any mention of the battle to himself. 

 

Brienne noted that the liquid was barely visible against his dark clothing. “I look a mess,” she said, glancing down at the wet splotches on her blue coat. 

 

Jaime’s left hand squeezed her hip, drawing her eyes from the stains to his face. “You look...” 

 

“Lady Brienne!” Sansa appeared from behind, grabbing Brienne by the arm. “I looked everywhere for you.” 

 

Jaime stood, hapless, and watched as Brienne was tugged into the crowd. 

 

x 

 

Brienne was no longer aware of the wet splotches on her chest; everyone was spilling their drinks. Everyone was loud and joyful and messy. It was an unusual sensation for her, being bound by victory and life and death to such a large group of people. 

 

Every time she looked over the shoulder of whichever person stood in front of her, Brienne saw Jaime at the perimeter of the room. He seemed to track her movements, going this way and that as she was pulled around by Sansa or Podrick. The idea he was following her, that he had truly been looking for her as Tyrion said, spread heat in her belly. 

 

Jaime looked up at the ceiling when their eyes locked, and when he was certain Brienne had cast her eyes away, he proceeded to watch her from across the room. He was forlorn over the distance between them, but he also enjoyed what he saw; it was satisfying to see Brienne delight in the attention and jubilance. It pleased him to know she could find solace. 

 

A hush fell across the room as Daenerys stood from her seat. Everyone scrambled to find a place on one of the many benches. While she spoke, Jaime watched Brienne through the corner of his eye, and when everyone stood in raucous cheer, he lost sight of her. 

 

Brienne had been aware of his presence, and when he seemingly disappeared, she berated her lack of bravery around him. She regretted not breaking from Sansa sooner. 

 

“Are you alright?” the younger woman asked. 

 

Brienne forced a smile. “Yes, my lady. Though I do believe I would be more comfortable if I changed my clothes,” and sensing Sansa’s offer to accompany her, Brienne added, “I will find you when I return." 

 

x 

 

Prior to the battle Jaime found it difficult to see Winterfell as anyone’s home. He never had, really. Everything was dark and cold and grave. But as he wandered the grounds alone, he found a certain kind of comfort inside its walls. There was a charm in its history and survival. 

 

Jaime wandered aimlessly, peeking in open doors. He reached the end of a narrow hallway and came upon a closed door. He reached out, pressing the tips of fingers to the wood, and the door squeaked open an inch. He retreated at first, but curious, he nudged the door the rest of the way open. At first glance it could have been anyone’s chambers, but when his eyes landed on armor carefully placed against the foot of the bed, Jaime knew he was in Brienne’s room. 

 

He took in the small space, and feeling oddly comfortable, removed his cape. He lit more candles. He approached the bed and admired the armor he had gifted her. He bent and drew his finger along the ridges in the breastplate. 

 

“Ser Jaime?” 

 

His spine straightened and he squeezed his hand into a fist. Jaime spun to face her. “I was... I was... looking for you,” he said finally. 

 

Brienne’s mouth twitched. She advanced into the room, leaving the door open. “Why didn’t you simply find me in the hall?” 

 

He shrugged but then said, “Too many people.” 

 

“Well, I only came to change and then rejoin the group.” She opened a wardrobe that housed a modest collection of clothing not unlike what she currently wore. She peered at him over her shoulder. 

 

“Ah, yes, well,” Jaime stammered, crossing the room. 

 

Instead of leaving, Brienne saw that he closed the door and remained in the room, his back to her. She took a deep breath and began to undo the long row of buttons that extended from just below her chin down to her waist. 

 

Jaime swallowed against the lump in his throat. He could hear the buttons unfastening, the rustle of fabric as the long wool dress pooled around Brienne’s feet. He heard the moment she stepped completely out of her breeches. He chanced a glance over his shoulder and watched, her back to him, as her hands grabbed the hem of her shift. Brienne lifted the material up, revealing first her bare bottom, then the long curve of her spine, and finally her broad shoulders as she removed it completely. 

 

He quickly faced forward, shamed by his curiosity. But in the moment Jaime stole a look at her, he was reminded of the baths at Harrenhal and took note of new scars crisscrossing the pale expanse of her back. He was reminded that under armor and layers of binding clothes, Brienne had hips and other curves. Long, lean legs and what appeared to be soft skin. 

 

“Wait,” he shouted, turning around after she’d slipped a new white shift over her head and was about to step back into her breeches. 

 

She questioned his sudden outburst with a tilt of her head and an arm crossed tightly across her chest. 

 

“Don’t go back there. Stay here. With me.” 

 

Brienne was still, barely breathing. “Why?” she asked, and it came out as a strangled whisper. 

 

Jaime took several strides closer to her. He thought to say something about the late hour, or take a jab at the Starks as undesirable company. But he realized it was the first time in a long while they were not only alone, but not weighed down by armor and swords. There were no people between them, no miles, no war. All that separated him from her were a few layers of clothing and their own trepidation. 

 

“Brienne,” he said, startling them both as he dropped formality, “I was looking for you tonight. I wanted to tell you the truth.” 

 

She stood straighter and crossed her other arm against her chest. Brienne tensed every muscle in her body, preparing herself for the worst. He was leaving for King’s Landing, she surmised, or everything about his presence at Winterfell had been an elaborate ruse to secure his sister’s rule and he’d never really had the power to knight her. 

 

Jaime planted his feet on the floor, his legs unsteady. “I came here because of you,” he said, and immediately felt the relief of confession. 

 

She was in fighting stance, her face already twisted in such a way that she could chastise him. When his words sank in, Brienne’s features softened and she dropped her arms to her sides. It was the first time she allowed him to see the knotted flesh below her neck where the bear’s claws had gnarled her skin. 

 

Jaime saw her hand reach up to cover the scars and he quickly closed the space between them, the fingers of his left-hand grasping her wrist, holding her hand aloft between their bodies. His thumb was pressed against her pulse and its frenzied rhythm matched the beat of his own heart hammering in his chest. “Did you hear what I said?” he asked quietly. 

 

Brienne nodded but then shook her head. “I don’t know.” 

 

He offered a small smile. “I said, I came here because of you, Brienne.” 

 

“Stop,” she said, wrenching her wrist away. She turned her back to him. “You don’t have to do that.” 

 

“Do what?” 

 

“Lie. Flatter me. The war is over. We survived. You are alive and free to do as you please.” She turned back to him. “Things can go back to the way they were.” 

 

Jaime stared at her. First, it had troubled him to realize the extent of his feelings for his one-time captor. But once he allowed himself to acknowledge the truth, there was no room for the possibility she did not feel the same. Suddenly, though, he feared everything was one-sided. 

 

“Is that what you want?” Jaime asked, calling up memories of insults and great distances and warring allegiances. “It’s not what I want.” 

 

Brienne moved away until her back was to the wall. 

 

He stepped forward. “I came here for you.” 

 

She shook her head. “You came here because of the promise your sister made. Because you have more honor than she.” 

 

“I came here because of what you said. Because-” 

 

“Stop, please,” she ordered firmly. “I know what happens to men after battle.” 

 

“What happens to men after battle?” 

 

Brienne sniffed, squared her shoulders. “I’ve heard there is a thin line between fighting and fucking. They grab the first woman they see and make declarations of love so they can fu-” 

 

Jaime reached out, his good hand clutching a fistful of her shift and the other pressed against her hip. “That isn’t this,” he insisted. “I looked for you. You. Everywhere. I never thought I would see another day. I intended to die along with my feelings. But the moment I knew we survived, Brienne, I knew I had to stop being such a fucking coward.” He was whispering, but it was raspy and angry. The press of his gold hand was heavy, and the way he twisted the fabric of her shirt around his fingers pulled the material tight around her chest. His eyes strayed from her face to her collarbone, down to the slight swell of her breasts under the nearly sheer white cloth. 

 

The nearness of her, and the sight of her body, distracted Jaime from his confession. He felt his cock twitch and strain in the confines of his clothes. He ached to be closer, for his body to be enveloped by hers. He pushed his hips forward, pinning Brienne to the wall. Jaime loosened his grip on her shift and his fingers climbed along her ribcage and his hand closed around her breast. 

 

She gasped, looking from his rapt face to his hand clutching her, feeling her. “Jaime,” Brienne panted softly. 

 

He paused his exploration, locking his eyes with hers. “You understand?” he asked. “That I don’t ever want to go back to the way things were. I want to spend whatever days we have left by your side. I’ve lost count of the ways you’ve saved me, Brienne.” 

 

She blinked and a tear escaped the corner of her eye. 

 

Jaime’s eyes followed its path down her cheek and over her plump lips. He lifted his hand from her chest to her face, his palm fitting to the curve of her cheek. “I love you,” he said. “I didn’t always recognize what I was feeling, but I do now.” 

 

“And I must love you,” she said slowly, posing it as a question. She touched him for the first time, resting her fingertips on his chest. She smiled, and then more tears spilled down her cheeks, and through the haze she saw his face more clearly than she ever had. She could see the sincerity in his eyes, could trust it as she had never been able to before, with any man. Something bloomed in her chest – peace, joy, surrender – and Brienne laughed quietly, saying, “No, I do. I do love you... Jaime.” 

 

He leaned forward. He pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth, then just along the curve of her bottom lip. She was pursing her lips, and Jaime let her feel the weight of his own, the scratch of his beard. He could feel her soften against his light kisses, and then finally opened his mouth against hers. 

 

Brienne leaned back against the wall, her war-weakened muscles rendered even less useful by the heady feel of Jaime’s mouth and the warm slide of his tongue. He didn’t allow her a moment to worry about how little experience she had; she was overcome by the weight of his hands all over her body and instinctively knew how to touch him in return. 

 

Heaving, he stopped suddenly, pulling away from only her mouth. “If you want me to stop, I will.” 

 

Brienne shook her head. “Don’t stop.” 

 

He once again covered her breast with his left palm, only this time he dragged the pad of his thumb across her nipple, and the friction of his touch through the material of her shift sent sparks of pleasure all the way down to between her legs. When Jaime roughly pulled the low collar of the shirt down to bare her breast and closed his mouth around it, Brienne thought she might pass out at the feel of his thick, wet tongue lashing across the hard peak. 

 

“Is that okay?” Jaime asked, pressing his cheek there to cast his eyes up to her face. 

 

She looked down at him cradled against her chest and could only nod, unable to form coherent words. Jaime’s left hand pinched the hem of her shift and he rolled it up to her hip, up to her chest. Brienne could see that with his gold hand, simple tasks were cumbersome. It seemed to her the appendage only got in the way. She lifted her arms and helped him remove the shift completely and discard it on the floor. 

 

It was not the first time Jaime found himself looking at Brienne’s naked body, and after all the times he’d called up the image of her in his head, he didn’t expect to be surprised by the sight of her. But it was different, and not just the patterns of fresh cuts and bruises. It was different because she chose to let him see her. Because she was the only woman he wanted to be intimate with. 

 

The longer he stared the more Brienne wondered if he had changed his mind. She began to lift her arms to cover herself when he said, “I want to look at you.” 

 

He reached for her, touching his fingertips lightly to her collarbone. He drew a line down between her breasts. Jaime explored her, circling the tip of his finger around one nipple and then the other, pinching and rolling it between the pads of his thumb and index finger. She was small breasted, but her body was more feminine than in his memories of Harrenhal. He bent to press a kiss between her breasts and then dragged his lips down to her belly as he dropped down on his knees. 

 

Brienne held her breath, uncertain but thrilled by the anticipation of what he would do next. She looked down at the top of his head and gasped when he licked a line between her legs. 

 

Jaime tilted his head back to see her expression. He grinned and did it again, and again, each time changing the pressure of his tongue against her flesh. His hand urged Brienne to part her legs, and she obliged, moving her feet further apart. He knew she was unsure, and when he felt her fingers grab hold of the hair at the back of his head, Jaime thought it was to pull him away. Instead, she was holding him there, and without abandon he resumed his ministrations – his tongue sliding, flicking. 

 

She was breathing hard and when Jaime touched her with his finger, he first felt Brienne’s body reject the act. But when he gently and slowly inserted his finger, her flesh slick and warm, she began to respond – hips bucking, quiet moans. 

 

Brienne pressed her arms against the wall for leverage as her muscles weakened, powerless against the force of pleasure. He was moving his finger in and out, stretching her, and his tongue circled around and flicked against the bundle of nerves above. Her body was chasing after something, and soon she spasmed around Jaime’s finger and felt sparks of pleasure that burst and burst and burst until she let out a loud moan and felt all of her muscles relax. She clapped a hand over her mouth, embarrassed by the noises she made. 

 

Jaime kissed the inside of her thigh and slowly stood, licking his lips. He said, “Don’t be shy, Brienne.” 

 

She dropped her hand and Jaime took hold of it, guiding her toward the bed. He managed to undo the first few buttons of his shirt, but when Brienne saw him struggle, she helped with the rest and tossed the garment aside. He tried again to remove the second layer, but she lifted it up and over his head for him. Both their hands worked at the tie of his breeches, and soon he was relieved of them and his smallclothes, standing naked before her. 

 

“What about that?” Brienne asked quietly, touching the gold hand. 

 

Jaime looked surprised. “You don’t want me to leave it on?” 

 

She shrugged. “I don’t need you to leave it on.” 

 

He gazed at her with glossy eyes, his heart pounding. Jaime worked to remove the heavy glove and discarded it on the nearby table. 

 

Brienne’s eyes grazed from his broad chest to his muscled stomach and finally his hard cock. She had not seen him in a state of arousal before, and still able to feel aftershocks of what he had done to her with his mouth, she wanted to make Jaime feel the same. 

 

“I want...” she began, her voice shaking. “I want to touch you. I’m just... I’m afraid I will do something wrong.” 

 

“I do not think that is possible, Brienne,” Jaime told her. He drew closer to her, his left hand resting at the small of her back. 

 

With so little space between them she only had to push her hips forward a bit to feel him hard against her. She rolled her hips a little, eliciting a groan when her skin brushed against him. She heard a hitch in Jaime’s breath when her fingers closed around his cock, and she studied the texture and length and got used to the weight of him in her hand. 

 

He suddenly pushed her hand away with a grunt and Brienne feared she’d made a mistake. Before she could apologize and berate herself, he said, “I don’t want to rush this.” 

 

Brienne lowered herself to the bed at his urging. He stood a while longer, admiring her body stretched below him. He joined her. Their bodies pressed together, he settled between her legs. 

 

At first, she was awkward and stiff, but soon her body was responding to him. Her knees bent, opening herself to him, and Brienne moaned softly when Jaime rubbed himself against her. She was scared – of pain, of the unknown – but not of him. Her hands wound around him, clasped at his lower back, and urging him even closer to her. 

 

Jaime lifted his head to look her in the eyes. “You’re sure?” 

 

She nodded. “I’m sure.” He smiled and kissed her. There was a part of Brienne that still didn’t believe it was real, that felt she was somewhere else imagining this in her head. But when she felt him inside her, stretching her, her mind and body were brought back to the very real moment. There was a slight sting, a brief burn, and then she felt only the pleasure of him thrusting slowly in and out. 

 

Brienne was shocked by how suddenly she knew what to do, how her legs spread and wrapped around him. How she learned the timbre of Jaime’s groans changed when she kissed his neck or dug her nails into his back. But it shouldn’t have been much of a surprise; their bodies had always been in synch. 

 

Jaime’s breaths became more and more labored. He arched his back, and she could feel more of him pressing against her and creating the most fabulous friction until she was squeezing her eyes shut and moaning and shuddering with her release. He dropped his head to Brienne's shoulder, his cry muffled as he came, recklessly spilling inside her. 

 

“I didn’t mean to...” Jaime trailed off, lifting his head to look at her face – beads of sweat glistening on her pale skin, cheeks pink with the blush of exertion and satisfaction. 

 

She shook her head and her mouth sought his, drawing him into a tender kiss. They remained tangled in an embrace long after their heartbeats slowed. 

 

x 

 

Jaime and Brienne entered the Great Hall, their hands joined together. It was the first time he’d ventured into public without his golden hand. 

 

The room was noisy with overlapping voices and they looked at one another, wondering if the celebration from the night before was still taking place. But when Daenerys stood and everyone came to a hush, the tone changed and they knew otherwise. 

 

They looked at one another, smiling, and squeezed the other’s hand before agreeing to let go. Side by side, they walked further into the room, standing at the back of the crowd. 

 

Jaime tensed when Daenerys began speaking of loyalty and joining forces against Cersei. He felt a lump in his throat when her eyes landed on him and she called him to the front of the hall. He looked at Brienne and she offered a nervous smile and encouraging nod of her head. 

 

It was a long walk through the crowd and when he reached Daenerys, she ordered Grey Worm to seize Jaime’s sword. She thanked him for his work on the battlefield but swore he could not be trusted now that he’d lived to see another day. “Even if he bends his knee to me, I cannot believe he will serve us over his sister,” she went on. She looked at Jaime and said, “You have no loyalty to my people or to the North. You have nothing to keep you from returning to King’s Landing and serving by the side of-” 

 

“Your Grace!” 

 

The frantic shout came from the back of the hall and soon Jaime could see Brienne’s head bobbing through the crowd as she pushed her way forward. Once again she stepped up, offering him salvation. 

 

“Your Grace,” Brienne repeated, breathless, “none of what you said is true. Jaime does have a reason to stay.” She looked at him, then at Daenerys, and back to Jaime. Her hands were shaking. “He is betrothed to me, your Grace.” 

 

There were audible gasps and laughter in the crowd around them. Tyrion stood from his seat, grinning. 

 

Daenerys looked at Jaime and asked, “Is that true?” 

 

He stared at Brienne a long while, mouth agape, and finally answered, “Yes, it is. It happened last night but I swear to you it was a long time coming.” 

 

x 

 

The hall cleared out until Jaime and Brienne were the only two remaining, standing several feet apart. He took the first step, and soon they were only inches away from one another. 

 

“Thank you,” he said, his voice low and sincere. 

 

“It was an outburst,” Brienne explained. “In the moment I could not think of anything better. Of course, we can strategize a way to keep you alive and forget about my silly-” 

 

“I don’t want to forget,” Jaime interrupted. 

 

Brienne stared at him. 

 

“Let’s make it the truth. Let’s not follow everyone to King’s Landing.” 

 

“W-where would we go?” Brienne asked. 

 

Jaime took a deep breath. He reached forward, grasping her hand in his. He drew it up and against his chest, letting her feel the sure and steady rhythm of his heart as he said, “Tarth.” 

 

Her eyes glimmered. She shook her head in disbelief. 

 

“I’ll need your father’s blessing,” he said. 

 

“Jaime.” 

 

“Brienne.” He squeezed her hand. “You’ve kept every oath you’ve ever made. Make one more. To me. To us.” He sighed, his eyes darkening. “That is, of course, unless you do not wish to marry me.” 

 

She shook her head. “I do,” she said, and her face contorted as she realized just how badly she did. How long she believed such a man, and such a proposal, was never an option for her. How terribly she wanted to see her home again, and her father. How many years she had been on the road, serving and saving others and watching her own desires diminish until Jaime reignited them. “I do,” Brienne said again. 

 

Jaime smiled as he let go of her hand to clasp his at the back of her head. He tugged her forward and she bent to receive his kiss.


End file.
